Tuesday, February 28, 2017

Divine Feminine

This blog is dedicated to my sweet friends Lauren and Allison who have taught me so much concerning the Divine Feminine...with so much love


Images...velvet, sinking, sensation. There is all and this grandeur and then there are pinpricks of vision. Temple, tent, grove, sea. I am in each place by turns, caught in this web of sensation, unable to move much but just to absorb and just to be. Stillness, arms raised, sky so far, and earth so close, and then stars around me and then earth so far. And earth skimming away almost as if I have taken flight in this vortex and am being pulled along and into - this rush of sound and everything so loud and cacophonous.

There is this red tent - there is the ancient and this primal. And there is this swirling - so many dancers and ornate skirts adorned with tiny wooden castanets and dancing tambourines and ribbons. Scarves and skirts whirling in the night, gossamer and catching the shimmer of light and play of color - flames dancing and giving a shape not quite human. Shadows distorted and taller than usual, slimmer and with more willow like form. And there is blood running down my legs and nothing to stem its flow - my moon blood. It is ancient and it is all the ages and it is all of life and it is sustaining. I raise up empowered and emboldened. I am the mother but the mother is all. I will create and I am the bridge of the spirit and body. I am the medium that will take spirit inside my own and create this body and this earth. Only goddess may be such - only goddess can be this channel. My moon blood dripping onto the earth below and feeding and nourishing.

Then I sink to the ground with it, and feel this dimness pervade, and my body let go and letting the mother hold me and the earth be my pillow and my bed. And now I am earth again but mother is earth and so tangible and so wet and so dusty and so gritty and so soft. And then simmering and this quiet and this altar and this beauty. Earth, tree, leaves. Now so close - each vein of each leaf. Tiny maps to infinite places. Each shortened step I take in these slippers of grass and delicate flowers and all this other silence. A silence that holds sound. Is that possible? Maybe it's more the intricate quiet I feel in this grove. These leaves that rustle and these branches that reach like quiet white barked arms in the darkness. Their form is rootless and their reach is infinite. They create this artwork and this lattice without exact pattern and this shelter with openings to beyond. Stark white and black tracings - these branches dance but gently in the soft night breezes. Dancing slowly but surely and dancing more obviously and this net of safety shaking and trembling and rising up. And the wind carries me again, farther and over and the present things recede and once again more is in my vision. Pinpricks of things that float so clearly into view and then recede just as rapidly - the altar.

The flame. I can see it burning. Dancing - destruction and creation all in that tiny light. I can see all the elements together now created by Mother. Her reach is everywhere, to my deepest self and more that I cannot even fathom. I can see earth and air and fire and now there is water. The sea. The sea. I am so far from it, on a toppy crag. So far above, this cliff, rugged and gray. The sky so gray with it. Spray - salty spray. I am only as the elements - naked and unashamed - clothes and scarves and skirts have faded away and I am vulnerable to all the earth and the Mother and I am at one with her and yet submitted to her entire being. Salty spray - cold and with a texture all its own. It trickles down my face and drips onto my breasts and my knees and onto my toes and I am standing in this coolness. My tears? Or the ocean? The ocean, the lull, the sound, the waves, the rippling, the undulation and the lack of fixed space. How will I descend that cliff? I will float, not on feet, not on earth, but on air, and no motion of my own seems to carry me lower and lower to the edge of that warm and moving water. The sea, it beckons and it calls and I am powerless to stop my path towards it. Now sandy, now briny, now feet wet and there I am, in this warm salty water, earth again but water more. Giving myself up, arms raised, naked and just as I came to this world but now with the marks of all life changing my art. To the sea, to the mother, relinquishment, trust, becoming one again with once what I was. Sinking, losing form, human no more. Rather a bit of sand, and salty sea and sky as well. I can't see anymore but to feel it all. To feel so much as to be everything - to be all land and all water and all trees and then again nothing at all.

1 comment:

  1. Incredibly beautiful. I was entranced by the imagery. Feeling the Mother so strongly with you dear friend. Your writing fills me with such mystical enchantment ♥